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Published: January 4th 2012
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1st set of photos for this post Quito is one of the few Latin American cities that was blessed with a cathedral comparable with a European example. The Basílica del Voto Nacional was certainly the most beautiful building in the city, and possibly one of the best in South America. Lunch however, might have bested it for the highlight of the time there. It is difficult to describe those baked bananas. Superbly sweet, moist but not wet, rigid but not hard. There was a fantastic canteen where for $2 you had an enormous plate of Pork steak, pinto beans, rice, and those fabulous plantains.
Just outside of Quito is Otavalo. This was time for serious bargaining. Otavalo boasts to have the largest market in SA, and with more expensive countries ahead it was time to get some presents and souvenirs. The food zone boasted edibles varying massively not only in type, but desirability. This was pretty much the only time I actually bought things from a market, being heavily limited by the space in my backpack.
After exploring Quito’s culture, a couple of nights out, and some great meals, I headed north for Columbia. This was a long and dull 24 hours, the
highlight (and pretty much the only food I ate) being a slice of pineapple for lunch – for those of you unaware of the taste of fresh pineapple in this continent, be careful. It renders any other pineapple inedible in comparison.
So I eventually reached Cali, Columbia, the Salsa capital of the mainland. I found a great hostel, and spent a couple of days reading, learning salsa in class, eating glorious steak sandwiches, and going out to the salsa clubs to be humbled by the locals dancing.
However, I was keen to get to the coast, so sadly I left before becoming a salsa virtuoso, and headed up for another long journey to Cartegena. This fortress city learnt the hard way that heavy walls were necessary. Numerous assaults (including from Sir Francis Drake) between 1550 and 1750 had decided the Spanish to build these great fortifications giving it a great postcard look today.
The great thing about these two cities I had been to was the level of integration between gringos and the locals. Of all the other countries I saw, it was far easier to relate on a personal level to Columbians. Travelling here was much
more about meeting people, chatting to them, discussing each others lives etc. Very different to the tourist trips hopping up and down Machu Picchu.
After doing a lot of that in Cartegena, I went round the coast to Santa Marta, painfully aware of the impending end of the trip. As I arrived, I went straight to a tour agency asking about the Lost City Trek. This is a great trip through the jungle to a site discovered in the 70s by grave robbers, and only recently accessible for tourists, after a decline in guerrilla activity in the area. It turned out there was availability to leave the same day, although the group had already left Santa Marta. The solution turned out to be chasing them down by motorbike, with me riding pillion. We stopped briefly on this harrowing journey at a roadside cafe. I got a horrible empanada which tasted like muddy sawdust before we sped on.
Finally we made it, the rest of the group waiting for me. I had a drink, a sandwich, and we set off. It was rainy season in the rainforest. This meant it rained all afternoon, combined with necessary wading through several
rivers, we were all drenched to the bone. Yet this came with a feeling of immense satisfaction. A glorious success against the elements. I managed to stay awake for dinner, and then passed out in a hammock for 12 hours.
This was repeated for the next 5 days, usually stopped at a swimming spot in the river for lunch, where you felt like an Amazonian child (who you sometimes saw playing in the river too!)
Post trek led to Taganga, a town I had been told to go to since I met people in Buenos Aires who has been to Columbia. It was essentially a sort of hippie commune which attracted enough normal people to make it a great place to visit without being overly rasta’. There were beachside bars where you could buy a beer for about 1 dollar any time of day, some of the cheapest dive schools in the world and a mix of holidaying Columbians and travellers from around the world.
Next to Medellin with Kate from London I took the “Pablo Escobar” tour. This was an investigation into one of the most famous faces of the cocaine trade in Columbia. Escobar was
estimated by Forbes to be the 7
th richest in the world in 1989, and reached it by a brutal mess of mass murder of opponents and anyone associated with them. Almost everyone we spoke to had been affected by the violence which shook the city in the 80s. The final stop in the city was to visit a friend of Kate’s from earlier in the trip. We went up to Laura’s house for a Columbian BBQ, drinks, and exploring the market in the town nearby.
The next day I flew to Bogota for my final day. For one final adventure I decided to make the journey to the hostel by public transport, making it far more exciting. It really epitomises the spirit of the whole trip, how easy it is to throw yourself into a situation where you have only a vague idea of where you are going, no idea of when you will be there, and no plan of how to tell when you were! But you always find a way, people always help, even when you have a woeful command of their language. And that, along with a glorious steak for dinner, was my final day. I
woke up at 5am the next morning and took flights Bogota – Panama, Panama – Trinidad and Tobago, Trinidad and Tobago – Gatwick. Time for the next adventure...
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